Letter from Edward Thomas to his wife, Helen Thomas. Formerly in envelope postmarked 16 Jan 1917, Codford, Wiltshire. Describes arrival and poor conditions in camp at Codford / day's activities / supplies / possibility of verses being published by H. W. Massingham at the 'Nation'. Archival reference: 424/1/1/1/1/217
11pm Monday Codford

Dearest; the best part of my journey
here was writing to you. We were very
slow and late. There was no dinner
left for me and I had to eat some almonds
and raisins Mother gave me on Boxing Day.
The conditions here are very bad. We
just have to club together to buy what we
need barring meat bread and tea. There
is no mess There is electric light,
a good fire and bare boards. Also I
didn't lose anything in transit apparently
Also your letter was waiting here.
Thorburn has gone away for a
weeks leave. I suppose I should be
busy taking the men for route marches
or lecturing, or going to and from
Tidworth for our stores.
A party was leaving as we
arrived tonight with bagpipes
playing 'Keep the home fires burning'
and 'Oh where Oh where is my
Highland laddie gone?'
Well, my bed is made and I
am sleepy at last. Goodnight

Tuesday
I took the men a route march today along
this bank of the river to Wylye and back along the
other side, ending in a series of most hazardous
turns and short cuts, which made Smith think
I was going to get lost, instead of which we
came out just opposite the camp entrance.
It was a lovely cold, clear morning, the roads
hard, and the men singing all the {illegible} and 'We're
here because we're here' to the tune of
'Auld Lang Syne'. Horton, Rubin, Thorburn
are away, and the Sergeant Major, so Smith
and I will have to do all the work. I think the
captain is absolutely fed up here. The Wylye
was very pretty, running clear as glass over the
chalk fragments and among watercresses.
The only post is 6.35 pm so you
may or may not get this tomorrow at 4.
Mervyn's letter came this morning. I
am so glad the book arrived in time and that he
had a good day.
We are waiting for the Captain to come in
to lunch. I don't think he will come, though
there are clean newspapers on the table.
A folding (telescopic) aluminium drinking
mug is a thing I could do with, my enamelled
one was all skinned in the railway journey.
We have nothing much to do today. I
did think of walking over to Hatch but he
might not be at home. So Smith and I will
walk to Chitterne up on the Plain and have

tea, there, to avoid sitting silent at table with
Captain {illegible}. He did come in to lunch and
hardly spoke a word to us. It was most uncomfortable.
He has a cold. He was out late last night and
up very late this morning and he looks dismal and
irritable.
I shall find myself waiting here if
we don't get busier.
Poor Haines expects to have to enlist
before very long and wants me to advise him.
{illegible} writes a nice friendly letter.
He hasn't been able to do anything with my
verses yet: hasn't seen {illegible}, but
says he will.
Goodbye Edward